


The Answer

by spicyarnor



Series: The Prince And His Bodyguard [7]
Category: Trails in the Sky, 英雄伝説VI 空の軌跡 | The Legend of Heroes: Sora no Kiseki (Video Games)
Genre: Alcohol, F/M, Friends With Benefits, M/M, Pining, They're naked in a bed but there's no sex happening, boobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-05
Updated: 2017-10-05
Packaged: 2019-01-09 08:58:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12273132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spicyarnor/pseuds/spicyarnor
Summary: "Oh, come on," Schera rolls her eyes with a sigh, "You really think I wouldn't notice the man with his face in my chest looking like he wants to die?"





	The Answer

**Author's Note:**

> This fic takes place during Sky 3rd some time after the "and who, exactly, is your love?" exchange, but has no specific plot spoilers.
> 
> Schera and Olivier are in a sort of complicated friends with benefits situation in my canon. They've had conversations like this before. I'll be writing more of them at some point! (I already have, it just isn't finished yet.)

"It's Mueller again, isn't it?" Schera says, looking down at Olivier with understanding, eyes softened with a bit of gentle concern. The blonde prince looks up at her from where his head is nestled in between her soft bare breasts. Both of them lie nude on a comfortable bed, half covered by a white sheet. They're both a little drunk, and both a little spent.

"How-" he begins, looking up at her, and she cuts him off with a finger to his lips.

"Oh, come on," Schera rolls her eyes with a sigh, "You really think I wouldn't notice the man with his face in my chest looking like he wants to die?"

He starts. Had he really let his guard down that badly? "I... see," he sighs, pushing himself up to rest his head on the pillow beside her. "I must apologize for my horribly rude behavior, then. It's unfair to you. You are absolutely perfect, Scherazard." He means it, feeling nothing but love and respect for this beautiful woman he has found himself lucky enough to spend another evening (or perhaps day? Well, it's always sort of evening in Phantasma) in bed with. And yet --

"Olivier, I know this has nothing to do with me," she insists. "Just... talk."

"Oh, Schera," he laments, pressing his head against her shoulder. The silver haired woman puts an arm around his back gently, as if to console him. "I don't know what to do. Every time I show him even the slightest bit of affection, he cuts me down. I can't even call him 'my love' without a cruel objection."

Schera sighs. "I don't think he really takes you seriously in the first place," she says, trying to be helpful.

Olivier groans helplessly. " _I know_ ," he whines, sounding defeated. "But if I just came out with it..." he trails off for a moment, then speaks quietly. "I don't want to lose him."

There is a moment of silence before Schera speaks. "You... have it pretty bad, don't you," she says carefully. "You're not exactly the type to play it safe."

"Yes," he replies, sounding distant. "I really do, don't I."

She sighs again and strokes his long hair, her fingers gentle and soothing as they brush his scalp. He relaxes against her, his cheek against her shoulder, closing his eyes.

"What a mess," she muses. "The Debaucherous Prince and his straight-laced military bodyguard. That's some trashy romance novel disaster waiting to happen right there."

This gets a small bit of laughter from the prince. "If only it were," he chuckles sadly, then sighs, draping an arm across her waist.

"If you really want this, Olivier, you at least have to try. Make the poor man's job a little easier, and I don't know, maybe he'll see you in a different light. Or not, but it's worth a shot, right?" 

"I don't even know if he likes men, Schera," Olivier protests.

"Oh he does," Schera insists. "At least, he isn't into women."

"What...? How do you know?" Olivier asks with shocked surprise.

"Here," she says, gesturing by way of grabbing a handful of one of her breasts and pointing it at the prince.

Olivier stops, staring at it, hesitating. It's round, pillowy, and frankly a little hypnotizing when the dark puffy nipple is staring him straight in the face. "You... want me to pleasure you to get the answer to my question?"

"No!" She full-on laughs, releasing her breast and mussing his hair. "Aidios, Olivier, you're ridiculous. No, I mean, boobs are the answer. Think about it."

"I..." The golden-haired man opens and shuts his mouth. All kinds of delectable naughty images come to mind, but nothing that actually makes any logical sense. "I can't disagree with you on principle, but I'm not entirely sure where you are going with this, dear Scherazard."

Schera sighs. "Okay, I'll spell it out for you. Have you ever seen Mueller stare at a woman's breasts? Even once?"

Olivier pauses. "Well... no." This is true, he can't recall any occasion offhand, but it's probably simply because Olivier himself was too busy staring (or trying his best not to), he thinks with a grimace.

"Not surprising," she continues. "I haven't caught the man so much as glance at my cleavage the entire time I've been around him. There isn't a straight man alive, uniformed or no, who doesn't have even a little trouble not letting his eyes stray from my face when he speaks to me. Either Mueller's the politest gentleman alive, or he's nearly painfully gay."

It takes a moment for Olivier to process this, the several drinks from earlier still making his brain slosh around a little bit. Surely, coming from another woman this statement might sound a bit egotistical... Well, it kind of does, but it's _Scherazard_. Perfect, voluptuous Scherazard, with flawless tan skin and movements like a goddess, who now keeps approximately 60 percent of her beautiful breasts uncovered at all times. Who can resist an occasional glance? Has Mueller really not even taken a single look?

"Are you sure?" He asks, with hesitant disbelief.

"Yes," she confirms, twirling a finger through his hair. "Even when we met again here in Phantasma, he noticed my new outfit, but his eyes didn't stop anywhere. It was like he noticed someone had redone the countertops. It was practically eerie."

"That's... incredible," Olivier manages to say, mouth falling open and then slowly turning to a smile. "You... You might be right. You think he's into men, then?"

"I mean, probably. Or maybe he doesn't like anyone period, or it's just me. But the first is probably more likely. Either way, you have a chance, Olivier. If you're serious about your feelings for this man, you have to give it your best shot. Even if it ends in disaster, you have to at least _try_." She sighs, looking at him with a sympathetic, pitying grimace. "Most women will kick you right out if you make those miserable faces in bed with them. Men too, I assume. You're lucky I put up with you at all."

She's right. She's completely right.

"Schera, I love you," he says, grabbing her face and smooching her.

"Yes, yes, I know," she says, rolling her eyes with an amused smile. "I don't think I'm the one you should be telling that, though."

"I will go to him," Olivier declares, sitting up and clenching a fist against his chest. "After we get out of this place, I will do everything I can to win his love. I will become a better man, and when the time is right... I'll tell him. I'll do it."

"That's the spirit," Schera encourages, patting him on the back. "Coincidentally, speaking of spirits, isn't it time for another drink?"

Olivier groans. Well, if he nearly dies again tonight, he supposes she's more than earned it.


End file.
